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She sat there, staring at the computer. She looked at the picture on the wall. She looked at the phone on the desk. She sighed. She looked out the window.

She had to finish the presentation tonight. No more delays, no more excuses. The meeting was tomorrow and senior management would be there, waiting to hear what she had been working on since January.

It wasn?t like she had not done anything, quite the opposite. But the final touches had eluded her for the past couple of months. Actually, the Internet had been her distraction. She found herself drawn to certain websites; ones that she had never realized were there before. As she looked at them, she realized what she had been feeling all of her life was shared by others ? many others! She explored them cautiously at first, then freely. She knew she should have been working, but since she was at home and on her own computer, what harm was there?

Over the weeks, she discovered the various mediums ? photos, videos, written stories! But the latter was her favorite because it allowed her to use her imagination. What would it really be like to feel clippers run over her head? Her own hair was as the stories usually started: dark brown, wavy, very thick, just to her breasts and in great shape. This was attributed to the fact she only used a hair dryer in emergencies. Most nights, she washed it and went to bed. No chemicals, no sprays. Credit great genes or whatever, but her hair almost always looked great with just a quick brushing. And on the off days, a simply ponytail with pearl earrings did the trick.

So she sat there staring at the computer as her mind wondered yet again. In the pencil holder was a pair of scissors. And it was muggy in the house, despite two dehumidifiers running full time.

Stop it, she thought. She scolded herself for being silly! She loved her hair and knew she would regret it. So many people complimented her on its beauty.

But there was so much hair. What if she snipped on little strand from the middle of her hair? What harm could that do? She reached for the scissors.

But what about the meeting tomorrow? She had to look her best and what if she snipped too much? Her conscious seemed to be in league with her hair. However, her hand seemed to understand her mind and grasped the scissors. She took the clip from her hair and it tumbled down the back of the chair. She reached around and found a small strand in the middle of her head where nobody would notice, especially since she was not dating anyone at the moment. She carefully separated the rest of her hair so she would not make a mistake. She put the scissors up to the lock of hair but then paused. How much should she leave? She closed her eyes and let fate decide. If the next song on the radio had a female lead, she would leave an inch, if it were a male lead, to the scalp. She sat there and waited. Finally, the song wound down and the next one started. She smiled as The Doors started into an old favorite. Before Jim uttered his first word, the scissors closed on the lock.

Being curious, she pulled out the ruler from the drawer and found the lock to be just over 14 inches. The stubble felt funny, yet was it there? Was she imagining it? That feeling so many stories had described? She could not tell. She would have to make another snip. This time the lock was just to the right. She tugged the hair and closed slowly this time. She could feel the individual hairs being freed from her scalp. She ran her fingers across the two patches. It felt so strange, but she could feel the stubble move back and forth and then it hit her! The sensation so many stories had talked about. She kept rubbing it and smiling.

Suddenly, she tossed the scissors across the desk. Apparently her conscious had kicked back in because she remembered the meeting tomorrow. She could not do any more cutting. So she started typing but kept looking at the scissors seeming so out of place on the desk. She tried to keep typing. What would she look like with bangs? More typing. What about thin wispy bangs? More typing. Then a sigh as she reached for the scissors. She sectioned off a few strands and using her fingers combed them down her face. Not feeling like there was enough to get a good sound, she combed more, making a thick curtain of hair she could barely see through. Using a CD as a mirror, she positioned the scissors just below her brow. She could feel the cold scissors on her forehead. What was she thinking? She should stop right now! But there was something she did not understand that made her close the scissors. There was a crunching sound, the metal of the scissors vibrated ever so slightly and she cast her eyes down to watch the hair fall down her blouse. She looked up and her eyelashes brushed against the bottom of her bangs. She had not thought about the cleanup as she looked at the hair on the floor, but that really did not seem to matter.

Back in the CD mirror, she saw that her bangs were rather uneven. What have you done, her conscious screamed! Stop now and someone in the office can fix this. But she knew she could not stop. She tried to trim them, but they bunched up and were worse. Of course she was using paper scissors. So after a couple of attempts, she taped the mirror on the monitor and started surfing for pictures of bangs. She finally found one of a lady with a pixie cut. She sectioned off parts of the hair and snipped micro bangs. She then sat back and tried to convince herself that people may not notice unless they were very close to here. But then something else caught her attention. She went into the bathroom and confirmed it. The short bangs somehow threw her features out of proportion and her hair looked horrible so long. And it looked worse pulled back in a ponytail.

Told you so, her conscious whispered.

?Shut up!? she yelled at the mirror. ?Great, I am talking to myself.?

She folded her hair so that it fell to shoulder length. No good. Shorter was still no better. She then twisted it so that the ends surrounded her face and she saw what she had to do. She drug her lighted mirror and set it up on her desk. Not knowing which way was best, she started with the hair next to her bangs. A small lock in one hand and a quick snip with the other left just under an inch of hair on her head and 20 inches in her hand. She watched it fall from her hand to the floor. It was soon joined by so much more as she started working back across the top of her head, pulling hair free and snipping. She actually was trying for a pixie style and hoped that is what she ended up with.

When she finished the top of her head, she put her arms down to rest. Her conscious reminded her that she had also been neglecting the gym. She started down the left side and when she got to her ear, she snipped the sideburn and hair above her ear very close. This is one thing she could do, having had a mullet in high school in the late 1980s. She started down the other side having fun as she watched herself in the mirror. She laughed that she had not taken any pictures, but she did not want her image to be posted on a website! Before she started on the back, she rubbed her head. Still felt strange and she was really regretting not having a boyfriend at this point. The back was most challenging, since she could not tell if she were cutting her hair evenly. But she found it getting shorter as she went down her neck. This was not intentional, but it gave her a chance to recut part of the back.

So there she was, staring at the computer again, but this time with a pixie-ish cut. It was obviously done by someone with no knowledge of haircutting. She looked back into the mirror and thought if this were one of the Internet stories, she would have a pair of clippers in her bathroom. But she was a single woman and how many single women in real life happen to have a pair of clippers in the bathroom? Very few! So she tried to come up with options. The Yellow Pages revealed a barbershop that opened at 6:00 am and since the meeting was at 9:00, she resigned herself to her fate. Even though she kept rubbing her hands over her hair, she did manage to finally complete the presentation. But when she put her head to her pillow for the first time?..

At 6:10 the next morning, she walked into the shop. The barber looked at her with a knowing expression and told her to sit down. ?So how long was your hair before you cut it last night?? She was surprised by his wisdom but admitted the truth. ?It looks like you were going for a pixie, right?? She nodded. ?Well, I don?t do those, so the best I can do is shape it up with clippers and you can go to a salon this afternoon.? She looked at the barber and around her and wondered if this were real life or her imagination as she read a story. But then the cape and the often-mentioned tissue were in place and she knew this was reality. He snapped on a guard and turned on the clippers. Without a word, he shoved her head down and started cutting.

And dear readers, the sensation was just like the stories said it would be!

Pass after pass, she understood! She wanted more, but this was a barbershop and barbers don?t waste time. He put some gel to help tame it into a feminine style and she left. When she arrived at her office, her team was gathering for the final meeting before the presentation. Everyone looked, but nobody dared say anything for the first five minutes. By now she had added some oversized earrings and was feeling sassy. When they finally asked, she said she really did not have an answer.

Since she had not met most of the people she was presenting to, she did not have to explain her appearance. As the meeting ended, one of the older board members said he liked her enthusiasm and obvious guts. He added that this was the first time he had ever seen any female in company with such a radical look and he knew she meant business. She left knowing it had been a success. As the team tried to decide where to go for a victory lunch, she begged out citing an appointment she could not get out of. She promised to join them that evening for the real celebration.

She ran her hands through her hair and thought about the last 18 hours. She got out of the car and entered the shop. Several offered to help, but she waited. After a short time, he turned to call his next customer. He remembered her from this morning. ?Has it grown that much?? She returned his smile and looked at his hand ? no ring, just as she remembered. ?It went great! And the hair was the icing on the cake.? She slid into the chair. ?What if we go shorter? Much shorter.? She removed her earrings.

?How much shorter?? He grinned and blushed.

?If I let you decide, will you take me to lunch??

He stopped combing. ?I can?t get away for lunch but I can do dinner. I get off at 4:00.?

She stood up. ?I really should be joining my friends for lunch.? He lowered his head with embarrassment. ?But if you can work me in around 3:45 this afternoon, I will be free the rest of the day.? He could only smile. ?So I will see you later??

Her friends were surprised to see her at lunch but she made some feeble excuse. At 3:42, she walked back in the shop. His chair was empty and as she sat down, again she questioned if this were a story or real life. He never said a word, but once she was settled, he simply turned on the clippers and pushed them across her head. She treasured the firm vibrations as they made pass after pass. She did not care what he did to her at this point, but he knowingly kept going over her head again and again and she loved him for it. When he stopped, he took her hand and placed it on her head. Twenty-four hours again, she would have bet real money that she would not be here right now. But she was, and he was there and they were soon at her house.

And no, this was no story.

And so I thank you, dear readers. This is my final story for haircuttingstories.com. I have heard from only a few of you, but I hope my stories have met your approval. I wish you all the best for the future.

Sincerely, Lady Long Locks No More

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